Oshaz Fatima
In Pakistan, the use of hakeem medications remains deeply woven into the fabric of society, a legacy of centuries-old traditions that have refused to fade despite modern medicine being widely accessible. Walk through the bustling streets of Lahore, Karachi, or Peshawar, and you will inevitably see brightly painted signboards advertising cures for everything from hair loss and infertility to diabetes, liver disease, and even cancer. These claims are made with confidence and flourish, exploiting the trust and desperation of people who often do not know any better. The chokehold this system has on the population is undeniable, and while it may appear harmless on the surface, wrapped in the cultural narrative of “natural” or “herbal” healing, the reality is that hakeem medicines are, at best, ineffective placebos and, at worst, harmful concoctions that actively deteriorate health and delay proper treatment.
A major reason why hakeem remedies thrive is because they are marketed as “safe,” “side effect–free,” and “time-tested.” This language resonates with the public, especially in a society where mistrust in modern medical institutions, coupled with a lack of awareness, runs deep. People often believe that herbal or traditional remedies are natural and therefore benign, but this is far from the truth. Many of these so-called medications are not truly herbal; they are laced with steroids, heavy metals, or toxic substances that give an illusion of quick relief. For example, the sudden burst of energy or pain relief a patient experiences may not come from some miracle herb but from unregulated doses of steroids hidden in the formulation. Over time, these substances wreak havoc on the liver, kidneys, and endocrine system, leading to irreversible damage that far outweighs any supposed benefit. Yet the myth persists, feeding into a vicious cycle where people continue to consume these dangerous substances under the guise of “natural healing.”
The placebo effect also plays a crucial role in maintaining the popularity of hakeem practices. When someone takes a pill, syrup, or powder, there is often a psychological expectation of relief, and sometimes the body responds positively, though not because of the medicine’s intrinsic efficacy. Instead of recognizing this for what it is, a mind-driven response, patients attribute their temporary relief to the hakeem’s skill or the potency of the remedy. This false reinforcement convinces people that they have found a legitimate cure, and they keep returning to the same practitioners, often wasting precious months or years before they realize their condition has not improved. By then, irreversible damage is done.
One of the most devastating consequences of this widespread reliance on hakeem remedies is the burden it places on the formal healthcare system. Doctors across Pakistan frequently encounter patients who present with advanced complications of diseases that could have been treated or managed effectively had they sought medical help earlier. A patient with hepatitis, for example, may waste months consuming hakeem syrups and powders only to arrive at a hospital when their liver has already failed. A person with diabetes may use “sugar control” herbs until complications like diabetic foot, kidney failure, or blindness emerge. Women struggling with infertility may resort to powders and potions that not only fail to address the underlying issue but sometimes actively cause harm to their reproductive systems. By the time such patients enter hospitals, their cases are far more complex, expensive, and resource-intensive to manage, stretching an already overwhelmed healthcare system to its limits.
The delay in seeking medical care is perhaps the most destructive outcome of this reliance on hakeem medicine. Illnesses that are entirely treatable in their early stages escalate into chronic, often untreatable conditions. This trend not only impacts the patient but also adds enormous financial strain to their families and the health sector. Resources that could have been utilized for preventive care, early treatment, or capacity building are diverted toward managing late-stage complications. In essence, hakeem medicine is not just a personal choice, it is a societal issue with far-reaching implications for public health, medical infrastructure, and national productivity.
Even when patients do eventually make their way to hospitals and clinics, the influence of hakeem remedies does not disappear. Many continue to use them alongside prescribed medications, convinced that combining “natural” with “modern” is somehow better. This mixing of unregulated traditional substances with regulated pharmaceuticals creates dangerous interactions, diminishing the efficacy of prescribed drugs and sometimes causing severe side effects. Doctors often find themselves battling not just the illness but also the damage inflicted by these parallel treatments, a frustration that underscores the pervasive grip hakeem practices hold over the population.
To Be Continued
